


That Time Master Attendant Was in a Shitty Mood

by orphan_account



Series: The Disastrous Life of Master Attendant and Co. [1]
Category: Food Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Author regrets nothing, Based on a Tumblr Post, Crack, Don’t Fuck With Women on Periods, Gen, Might turn into a series, My First Fanfic, Non-Binary Master Attendant, Some Swearing, attempted humor, author regrets everything, if I’m sleep deprived enough, no beta read we die like illiterates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 18:03:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16023131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Everyone around the restraunt agreed with the saying, “Don’t fuck with Master Attendant when she’s on her period.”Apparently, Red Wine didn’t get the memo.





	That Time Master Attendant Was in a Shitty Mood

Red Wine had never tasted Master Attendant’s blood before, only smelt it in the aftermath of a brutal battle, and he was positively dying to know how it tasted. Would she have sweet, nectarine blood that would befit such a young, kind person that they acted like? Or, would they have spicy and sour blood that would suit the passionate, fiery-tempered, brash warrior they let loose in battle. Oh, how Red Wine wanted to know.

And, he finally had the chance.

The enticing aroma of fresh spilt blood hypnotized him, driving him to race from his resting chambers into the garden, and lo and behold, there was Master Attendant,

...screaming...?

...angrily…?

He rubbed his eyes and shook his head, trying to disperse the oddly realistic hallucination he was experiencing.

But, he hadn’t finally gone senile, like all the other Food Souls jokingly predicted, Master Attendant was pruning (more like murdering, he thought, wincing as a branch of leaves got sliced off with more force than strictly necessary) the buttercups while ranting to them about all their woes.

He hesitated for a bit, wondering if perhaps he should not disturb them on this particular day, but, he waved that thought off quickly. He could easily overpower them anyway.

...or, so he’d thought.

He glided over to the peeved Master Attendant, bent over and whispered in their ear something the author can’t write due to multiple reasons like keeping this story PG-13, but instead of blushing and freezing up like they always do, all they did was mutter something vaguely like ‘fuck off’. He frowned, and when he leaned closer to listen better, they did the absolutely unexpected.

They’d roundhouse kicked him in the face, before brutally assaulting him repeatedly in multiple sensitive areas.

As he stumbled back, landing on his posterior while clutching gushing nostrils, Master Attendant glared at him, murder garenteed in their blood-red eyes.

“Red Wine,” they ground out, looking positively deranged.

“What. Do you. Want?”

He stammered out a peace treaty, before making a tactical retreat (read: run for his life) back to his quarters.

A few hours later, after Red Wine had stopped crying like a little bitch and gathered his bearings, he flew to the lounge where all the Food Souls were currently resting and recounted his harrowing and scarring tale.

Yet, to his immense surprise, all the others lacked it. All the ladies had spoken in eerie unison, “They’re on their period”, as if that explained everything, and the others just nodded along, Boston also adding that all the Food Souls other than those who the reclusive Master Attendant interacted with during what he called, ‘the monthly terror,’ knew to stay away from them. He also tacked on at the end, with an odd amount of pride, that he, Pecking Duck, B-52, Brownie, Milk, Black Tea, and Vodka were only ones they tolerated this time of the month.

And Steak just laughed at his misery that ‘such an ignorant idiot who dares mess around with Master Attendant deserves’, as per usual.

Asshole.

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me at @its-a-me-a-mirio on Tumbler


End file.
